


Download Complete

by smoreo



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Doesn't mean there isn't any pain, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, No Monokuma - Freeform, Self-Doubt, Unbeta'd, these kids need a hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-02-25 04:34:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21870136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smoreo/pseuds/smoreo
Summary: The Hope Restoration Program was created to purge the despair from those involved, to free their mind from the vice-like grip darkness had on it. It was to rid the unwanted thoughts and memories, replacing them with new experiences brimming with hope. The experiment was an overwhelming success.Until it wasn't.Alternatively: Hajime's memories of Ultimate Despair were deleted, but the world didn't forget.
Relationships: Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito
Comments: 22
Kudos: 145





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've recently entered the Danganronpa fandom, and I'm drowning. Help.

"Are you going to ask him?”

Hajime almost didn’t hear the question over the cheers echoing around the hotel restaurant, voices shouting either Akane or Nekomaru as they destroyed plates of food a table over. Chewing his rice at a much more sedate pace than those two, Hajime turned his attention to Chiaki sitting beside him.

He was almost taken aback at her uncharacteristically intense stare, blinking in confusion. “Ask who what?” Hajime took a moment to think of why Chiaki would ask something like that, but nothing came to mind. But she definitely had something on hers, though, hinted by her slightly exasperated gaze.

It took a while for her to respond, the cheering for the intense competition growing louder, but Chiaki eventually sighed. “You heard what Usami said this morning, right? We’re leaving the island tomorrow.”

“Yeah…?” Hajime drew out his answer, not sure where she was going with this.

He had heard that their time on the island was drawing to a close, and well…it was actually still sinking in for him. It had been around two months since they had been mysteriously dumped on Jabberwock Island without a clue to what was going on. Usami had gone on about Hope’s Peak Academy, entrance exams, and friendship for so long that they had eventually accepted their situation. They needed to form bonds here before actually entering the academy…for some reason.

It had been weird at first, stuck with all of these strangers, but once Hajime stopped being concerned about every single thing, the surprise vacation started being enjoyable.

And now, they were leaving first thing in the morning.

Hajime was excited. _Finally_ he would be attending Hope’s Peak, achieving the goal he’s had for so many years now. On the other hand, he was going to miss the carefree lifestyle of the island. He didn’t have to worry about anything here. It was nothing but crystal blue waves, warm sunshine, cool breezes, friendly faces-

“Why haven’t you asked Nagito out yet?”

Hajime inhaled so violently that a few grains of rice lodged themselves in his throat, and the resulting coughing fit went unnoticed by the ones focused on Akane destroying a chicken breast.

Chiaki patted his back until his lungs stopped seizing, and Hajime looked at her with wide eyes, mutinous rice forgotten. “Wha-What? Why did you…how did you-”

“Gaming requires you to notice subtle things in the least likely of places.” Chiaki withdrew her hand, eyes unwavering. They never did, despite her soft-spoken nature. “I’ve played many detective games that help me master the skill, but…I can’t figure out why you haven’t told him yet.”

Hajime quickly averted his gaze, staring at his dinner and swallowing thickly. He couldn’t be surprised that she noticed, really. She was one of the closest friends he had here, and while he had attempted in hiding any, uh, _affections_ , this was bound to happen eventually. And with how she was speaking, she had known for a while.

“Hajime?” Chiaki’s quiet call made him look up again. Her gaze now held hints of sympathy, and he heavily exhaled.

“I mean, I…” Hajime glanced over to the subject of their conversation. Nagito sat on the opposite end of the table, gently smiling as he watched Nekomaru chug a glass of water before chowing down on wings. Nagito laughed behind his hand when Akane tried and failed to swat the coach’s food away. The way those sea green eyes crinkled always warmed Hajime up inside. “There’s never been a good time, is all,” he quietly answered.

Another bout of silence from Chiaki until she answered, “We’ve been on a tropical island for the past couple of months. There’s been plenty of time.” Hajime couldn’t say anything to that because it was true. They had nothing _but_ time here, but he had spent that observing at a distance. Chiaki tilted her head. “What are you scared of?”

Hajime thought it was obvious. There was a chance of rejection, and it was the uncertainty that kept him quiet.

“We’re good friends,” he said, going back to eating to just give him something to do. “I don’t want to ruin that.”

Nagito was another person Hajime had been drawn to on the island, almost immediately. He was there when he first woke up, talked him down from his shock, and helped him with meeting all of the others. Nagito always had his smile, always eager to help.

As time passed, Hajime realized that he was a little _too_ infatuated with the smile, and then the white fluffy hair that had to be soft to the touch, and then those eyes that shone the brightest around Hajime and…

He didn’t want to ruin it…for his sake and Nagito’s too.

Along with his growing feelings, Hajime had noticed other things about Nagito as time went on. Things that caused others to keep him an arm’s distance away.

Nagito was eager to help, yes, but mostly at the expense of himself. He held all of the others on a higher pedestal than himself, for some reason, and trashed on his own existence at every chance he got. It was almost…overbearing at times. It was that attitude that pulled Hajime in, wanting to stop him from thinking like that, but the others weren’t so tolerant of his intense deprecations. It could get uncomfortable, and Hajime understood that.

Hajime was probably the closest friend Nagito had, and he couldn’t risk it by taking things too far.

“I don’t think you would ruin it,” Chiaki said, picking at her own food. “He likes you a lot. He most likely wouldn’t decline…probably.”

“The ‘probably’ is the issue,” Hajime muttered. He shook his head to rid himself of all the doubts. Now wasn’t the time to be thinking about that. There was an eating competition happening in the middle of the room, they were graduating from the island tomorrow, and he shouldn’t be the only one sad here. He mustered up a smile. “I’ll have time to think about it later, though. We’re still going to have class together, so I still have plenty of time to…think about it.”

Chiaki stopped moving around her rice, but she didn’t look up at him. “Yeah, you will.”

Hajime’s smile waned at her off tone. Had he said something wrong? “Chiaki? What-”

The rest of his words got interrupted by a boisterous roar, and Hajime glanced up to see Akane standing in her chair victorious. She held multiple cleaned bones in her raised fist like it was a trophy, her radiant smile surrounded by various sauces. Nekomaru sat defeated beside her, food still on his plate, but he shared her excitement nonetheless.

Cheers broke out, Kazuichi giving Akane a high-five, while Teruteru patted Nekomaru on the back.

Hajime’s mood lifted at the scene, it one last hurrah before leaving the peaceful island, until he heard Chiaki’s voice again.

“I…just think that now is the perfect time to do it,” she said, ignoring the scene altogether, and Hajime really wanted to place her strange tone but he couldn’t. She was smiling, but… “I can’t tell you what to do, though.”

Hajime just watched, confused, as Chiaki stood and left the table. His tongue refused to work as she walked out of the restaurant, pulling up her hoodie. What was wrong with her?

He stared for a while even after she disappeared until he felt eyes on him. Hajime turned to find Nagito looking at him with a concerned frown. He shook his head to dismiss it and finished off his plate.

Chiaki was just worried about him, that’s all.

* * *

That night, Hajime found himself sitting on the beach rather than resting in his bed. He wasn’t tired enough to sleep yet, and well, he wanted to take in the stars one last time.

They were so radiant here, their bright shine contrasting the vast darkness surrounding them. Stars were so hard to see back home, and even on those rare nights they shined like this, it could never compare to the serenity he felt now. A cool breeze ruffled his hair, waves crashed in the distance, it was…quiet.

Hajime breathed in the crisp air, let it circulate, and breathed it out. Jabberwock Island…It was fun while it lasted. It was time to go back to the real world now though, where relaxation wasn’t going to be as easy. But Hajime was ready for it. He had been ready for it.

“You’re going to miss it too, huh?”

Hajime stiffened at the sudden voice, but he relaxed when he instantly recognized it. There were footsteps from behind, and then Nagito was beside him, settling down on the sand as well. Their arms weren’t touching, but they were close enough for Hajime to take notice.

Forcibly taking his focus away from that, Hajime softly chuckled. “Yeah, I’m getting one more look before we go.” He looked at Nagito’s face, and his breath caught in his throat. Nagito was gazing up at the stars as well, his expression relaxed. He wasn’t smiling, but there was a fondness in those eyes which were illuminated by the stars above. Hajime could easily get lost those green pools. Already had.

Nagito looked at him, lips curling into the smile he adored so much, and Hajime quickly focused on a random shell resting by his foot. He hoped that the warmth rising to his face wasn’t visible.

If it was, Nagito didn’t say anything about it. He resumed admiring the stars, folding his legs and wrapping his arms around them. His hair rustled in the breeze. Hajime resisted the urge to run his fingers through it.

“Beautiful, right?” Nagito wistfully sighed, voice no louder than a whisper. “I can’t believe someone like me was able to witness such a sight.”

Hajime swallowed a retort that went along the lines of _‘you deserve things like this and more...so much more’_ in favor of tracing a shape in the shell, saying, “Luck works in mysterious ways, doesn’t it?”

Nagito laughed, it raspy yet melodious. “It sure does.” He hummed and hugged his legs closer to himself. “I’ve been graced with the best of luck, being in this paradise surrounded by amazing Ultimates.”

Hajime’s finger stopped, and he frowned at that piece of himself he still couldn’t remember. He hoped that light would be shined on that mystery when he got to Hope’s Peak. It was so weird that he was the only one who couldn’t remember, and it felt like he didn’t deserve Nagito’s intense admiration. 

“You still think I’m amazing even though you don’t know what it is?” Hajime asked, picking up the shell and tossing it. It landed with a splash, effortlessly carried away by reaching waves. 

Nagito looked at him like he’d insulted his ancestors. “Of course I do, Hajime! Even a blind person could see that you’re brimming with hope! All Ultimates are awe-inducing, no matter what they are. Memory loss doesn’t change that.” He placed a hand on Hajime’s shoulder, and Hajime nearly forgot how to breathe. “Okay?”

The amount of passion in his words made Hajime nod, the intensity of Nagito’s eyes drying his mouth. “Okay,” he repeated, voice cracking a bit.

Nagito heard it, and he snatched his hand away like he’d touched a red-hot stove. “I’m sorry! I should’ve asked before touching you! You probably don’t want scum like me-“

Hajime didn’t let him finish. “It’s okay, Nagito! You don’t have to apologize.” Nagito blinked at him like he was talking a different language. He got that look a lot when he tried to convince the other that he wasn’t a pile of trash to be stepped all over. Hajime flashed a wobbly smile. “Really. You don’t have to ask if you want to touch me.”

_Whoa, what the hell. Back up that damn truck._

“I-I mean I won’t feel offended or anything if you do something...like that,” Hajime stuttered, wanting to hightail it back to his cottage before his mouth wanted to betray him again. Embarrassment flowed through his veins, and it didn’t help that Nagito was openly staring at him. 

To fill the silence, he rattled on, “I don’t know why you think you’re scum, but you’re not. We’re all equals here.” Nagito’s eyebrows creased. Hajime didn’t let him start. “I know you’re going to argue, but that’s my opinion and nothing you say will ever change that.”

Nagito opened his mouth, but no words came out. Eventually, he shut it again and trained his gaze back up at the stars. His smile was back, as gentle as it always was. There was silence between them now. The space only filled with whispering waves. Hajime followed suit after a few moments, casting his eyes to the stars. Not one glistened brighter than the one next to him. 

_“I...just think that now is the perfect time to do it.”_

Chiaki’s words echoed throughout his mind, and Hajime’s chest tightened. It was just one sentence. One measly sentence. It would take two seconds to say. Nagito was right here. He could do it. 

_I like you._

He could.

But he didn’t. The crushing weight of doubt smothered the confession, and all Hajime could do was sigh, it long and heavy.

Nagito blinked at him. “Are you tired, Hajime? Don’t tell me that you stayed out here longer just because I-“

“I’m not tired, just…” Hajime couldn’t meet Nagito’s inquiring stare. He instead remembered Chiaki’s statement, wondering why there was such an emphasis on the present. Sure, Jabberwock was basically a paradise, but his feelings weren’t going to change when beach chairs were exchanged with desks, palm trees for flickering lights. 

“Do you…” These words were much easier to say. “Do you think things will change when we get to Hope’s Peak?”

“Hm?” Nagito didn’t seem surprised by the different topic. “Change?”

Hajime nodded. “Yeah, like...I don’t know.” He scratched the back of his neck, now regretting asking. “Nevermind. It’s a stupid question.”

Nagito shook his head, looking down at the sand as he pondered his question. “I don’t think it’s stupid. By change, you mean everyone here, right?” Curious eyes met his, and Hajime made a noise of assent. It was all he could do, as mesmerized as he was. Nagito continued without missing a beat. “I understand your worry. An island and an academy are two completely different settings, completely different atmospheres. Change is inevitable. Not all of it is bad, though.” 

Nagito completely faced him, crossing his legs. His knee brushed against Hajime’s thigh. He smiled while Hajime had a mini-meltdown. “The stress of school life might become a burden, but that will just make our hope burn brighter once we overcome it together. Our bonds will grow stronger, as well as our tolerance for those measly obstacles.”

“B-Bonds, huh?” Hajime’s mouth betrayed him again. His mind quickly worked to mend the problem, but it stalled when Nagito patted his knee, the touch light and fleeting.

“Yep!” Nagito chirped, eyes crinkling. “Especially our bonds, so don’t worry. I know that you can overcome any problem thrown your way, Hajime.”

Hajime willed his tongue to work. “I...y-yeah. Thanks, Nagito.” He wanted to hit himself. He _needed_ to get away before his brain completely shut down and he said something that couldn’t be taken back. “Shouldn’t we head back to our cottages? We have to get up pretty early.” Good, his brain was on his side for once. 

“I think so too. Usami wouldn’t be happy with us if we slept in.” Thankfully, Nagito easily accepted the suggestion, standing up and holding out a hand for Hajime to take.

Hajime did so, hoping that his palm wasn’t abnormally clammy, and got to his feet. Dusting sand off his shorts, he walked back to the cottages with Nagito at his side.

The stars watched them go.

* * *

“Whoa!” 

Ibuki’s shocked gasp filled the air, along with others'. Hajime's was one of them, because upon walking into the abandoned ruin on the second island, he hadn’t expected _this_.

While the outside was dilapidated and covered with moss and overgrown vines, the inside looked like a rainbow had thrown up everywhere. There were many colors painted along the walls and ceiling, almost too loud and garish to look at.

Streamers had been thrown about, a myriad of balloons swayed back and forth, and there was glitter _everywhere._

“What the hell?” Fuyuhiko exclaimed as he looked around. 

Byakuya adjusted his glasses. “Is all of this...really necessary?”

“Definitely!” Usami skipped to the front of the surprised group, her bunny ears flopping. “Because this is a celebration! You all should be happy!”

“It’s hard to feel happy when my eyes are bleeding!” Kazuichi argued, pulling his beanie over his face. 

“We could’ve gotten a warning…” Peko muttered as she stepped around a mound of glitter.

Nagito raised his hands, coming to Usami’s defense. “Now now...we can’t get mad at her. She’s obviously cares a lot about this, about us.”

“A little too much,” Hiyoko huffed, but her tone wasn’t as biting as usual. “But I guess it isn’t the _worst_ thing I’ve seen. That spot belongs to Mikan’s hideous pig face.”

Mikan whined, not used to Hiyoko’s shallow insults even after all this time. “N-Not my face!”

Usami cut in before any more comments, scathing or otherwise, could be made. “It’s time for your graduation to begin!” She pointed her magic stick to the center of the room. There were podiums there arranged in a circle, one for each person. “Go stand behind the podium that had your name on it!”

“Why are we doing this?” Mahiru asked. “Aren’t we supposed to be going to the airport?”

“We will afterward!” Usami singsonged. “You all have to complete the graduation ceremony first!”

Hajime frowned at her because she didn’t answer the question, but he withheld any questions of his own when he saw Chiaki moving for the podiums. Everyone looked at each other before doing the same. Questioning Usami would just prolong their stay here.

Hajime found his name pretty easily, standing between Mahiru and Hiyoko with Nagito right across from him. Usami skipped to the middle, humming a song no one knew. 

“Ohhhh kay!” She spun around on her heel, giggling. “Graduating from this heart-throbbing school trip is super simple! All you have to do is show me how many hope fragments you’ve collected! Once I’ve seen how many you’ve gotten…” Usami pointed to a closed door off to the side. It was brown and almost out-of-place in this colorful room. “You can go out there to wait for everyone else!”

“Are you fucking serious?” Fuyuhiko scowled. “That’s it? We could’ve done this shit at the airport!”

Usami shrunk away from him a little bit. “But...But I decorated this all for you! I couldn’t _not_ show it to you!”

“You know what this place is missin’?” Akane brought up, rubbing her nose. “Cake. Cake would’ve been perfect here.”

“Yes!” Sonia agreed with her. “In my country, cake makes a splendid breakfast!”

Usami sniffled. “I _knew_ I was forgetting about something! Cake would’ve been perfect!”

Byakuya sighed, shaking his head. “Forget about the cake. Can we get the exam started already?”

Usami bounced right back, brightening. “Of course! I’m going to go in alphabetical order, sooooo…” She spun on her toes again before stopping abruptly, waving her wand at a specific cook. “Teruteru Hanamura! Hand me your e-handbook, please!”

“Alright!” Teruteru took the tablet out of his pocket, grinning. “You won’t be disappointed! It doesn’t take much to get along with everyone here.” His grin widened. “Though, I wish there was a prize for getting a bit more... _intimate_ with people, if you catch my drift.”

Mahiru rolled her eyes as Usami checked it over. “Then you wouldn’t have _any_ of those prizes.”

Hiyoko snickered behind her hand. “And plus, his ‘drift’ is probably infected with all kinds of horrible diseases.”

Teruteru looked completely insulted while Hajime felt disgusted by that visual, but Usami’s peppy voice cut off any potential conversation. “You pass! Yay!” She returned the tablet. “Now, you may exit! Don’t wander too far though!”

“Sure thing!” Teruteru did just that, stepping away from his podium and exiting through the wooden door. Hajime tried to see what was past it, but he didn’t get a good glimpse.

“Next...is Hajime Hinata!”

“Huh? Oh.” Hajime focused on Usami’s smiling face before digging into his pocket. “Here.” He handed the tablet over, nervous for no reason. If Teruteru has enough to pass, then he surely would too. 

“Ughhhhh this is taking too long! The silence is killing me!” Ibuki tapped a beat on her podium. “Some background music would’ve been great! Could’ve had some karaoke up in here!”

Usami slumped, muttering, “Another missed idea,” as she read. Luckily, it didn’t go on for too long before the rabbit perked up. “You pass too, Hajime! Hooray! Go wait outside with Teruteru!”

Hajime relaxed his shoulders once he had the handbook in his possession again, feeling silly for the worry. He didn’t even know the requirements for this. One fragment could be enough to pass, for all he knew. He wouldn’t put it past Usami to do that.

He returned the tablet to his pocket and stepped away from the podium, but he paused when he met Chiaki’s stare. She was smiling, but it was similar to the one she wore yesterday at the restaurant. The sadness there matched the subdued expression in her eyes. She then waved at him, it short and sweet, and all Hajime could think was _why._

Why did it seem like Chiaki was waving goodbye? 

“Um, Hajime?”

He was thrown out of his thoughts by Usami, who was looking at him in confusion. Most of the class was, actually. 

“Sorry...I’ll go,” he quickly said before turning his back on them, heading towards the door. He felt eyes, her eyes, on him as he went, and each step got harder and harder to take. But why? Why was he feeling this? This…uncertainty? This was supposed to be a happy occasion, right? So why was Chiaki…

The door was in front of him now. Hajime eyed it. It was no bigger than a regular door, but something...something about it…

No. Hajime shook his head. No, there was nothing wrong with it. It was just a door. All he had to do was open it and step through. It was that simple. 

So he did.

* * *

Voices. He heard voices, all of them unfamiliar. 

It was nothing but gibberish. No, wait, maybe it wasn’t. He understood them but didn’t, like he was trying to listen underneath crashing waves. Everything was muddled and muffled, almost exhausting to listen to and understand. Couldn’t they be quiet? He was tired. 

“-ey...ar...e?”

Sounds were breaking through, vowels and consonants. He was swimming closer to the swelling tides. 

“-ar me? Can you hear me?”

He breached the surface, and everything came to him at once. Jabberwock Island, Usami, bonds, friendship, Chiaki, stars, Nagito, _Chiaki_ -

Hajime gasped for breath, eyes shooting open. He was instantly blinded by overbearing white, and he hissed in pain as his heart hammered against his chest, erratic beeping impinging his ears. 

“Hey, calm down! It’s okay!” A blur appeared over him, and Hajime only saw brown and black, his vision hazy. He blinked a few times, blinked away accumulated moistness, and the blur gained some sharpness. It slowly came into focus like he was an old and abused camera. 

“You’re safe,” the blur, a boy, said in a soothing voice. Hajime stared up at him as more of his features became detailed. The boy’s hair was messy, more than Hajime’s on a bad day, but his hazel eyes were kind. Very very kind, and yet…

Was that...nervousness swirling within? Fear?

There was a smile aimed down at him, and it was kind too, but his eyes didn’t change. “Relax a little, okay? Everything’s alright.” Hajime slowly blinked at him, mind churning through mush. Before he could process what the boy meant by _alright,_ he asked, “Hey, can you tell me your name?”

Hajime opened and closed his mouth a few times only to realize that something was covering the bottom part of his face, a mask to be exact. Confused beyond belief, he raised a hand, but the boy gently grabbed his wrist. 

“It’s better if you don’t touch it.” There was a laugh. It was forced and awkward, but it still sounded nice. “It’s going to help you breathe for a while.” Hajime didn’t have enough energy to fight him, so he lowered his hand back down onto something soft. Actually, his whole body was covered with something soft. “So…” The boy was persistent. “What’s your name?”

“Ha…” Hajime winced at his dry throat, the pain sharp and grating. He fought through it, though. He hoped the guy could hear it through the mask. “Ha...jime. Hajime Hinata.”

Something in the boy shifted. His eyes brightened. The wariness all but disappeared. “Nice to meet you, Hajime!” His voice was too loud. Hajime’s discomfort must’ve shown on his face, for the boy quieted. “I’m Makoto Naegi, and these are my friends.” He motioned to the side with his hand, and Hajime was slow to respond, using the little energy he had to marginally turn his head.

There were two other people in the too white room. They were standing a distance away, staring at him. They didn’t bother to hide their reluctance. Or outright distrust, in the other boy’s case. But...what did Hajime do to deserve that?

And wait...why...why did he look so familiar?

Makoto continued talking. “Those two are Kyoko Kirigiri and Byakuya Togami.”

Confusion crashed into Hajime like a tidal wave. His eyes widened, and the beeping grew louder again. “By...akuya?”

“Oh...yeah, that’s…” Makoto cradled his chin, looking somewhat flustered. “Forgot about that…”

Byakuya, or _whoever_ it was, scoffed, crossing his arms. His intense gaze never left Hajime. “Worry about that later. What’s the last thing you remember?”

Remember? That’s- “Grad...uating from Jabberwock...Island.” Hajime looked around the room and saw that none of his classmates were there. “Where’s…?”

“The rest of your friends?” Makoto finished for him. “They’re safe.”

He said it again. _Safe._ Why wouldn’t they be safe? What was the point of the continued reassurance? The longer the boy talked, the more questions ricocheted around his fuzzy mind.

Makoto’s smile turned sheepish, like Hajime’s thoughts were worn on his sleeve. “It’s...kinda a long story, but we want you to get some more rest first.” He pressed a button off to the side, out of sight. Hajime didn’t have enough energy to follow the movement. “We’ll come back to check on you later, so relax as much as you can.”

Hajime opened his mouth to oppose, but he was too slow. Too weak. They were already leaving. Leaving him in this too white room that didn’t look like Hope’s Peak Academy at all. It was too devoid of color to be the graduation exam, or even anywhere on the island. So where? 

The beeping slowed back down, and his eyelids grew heavy. Very heavy. He couldn’t…

This new world soon melted away, leaving him in darkness. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was nothing but a big mindfuck for Hajime, and I feel bad

When Hajime woke up again, his senses weren’t as muddled, brain escaping the murky bog it had been trapped in the first time.

Weary eyes recognized the too white ceiling hanging above them, and Hajime took a deep breath to steady his nerves, crisp oxygen circulating in his lungs thanks to the mask still covering his mouth. He tried to keep calm as memories attacked him. Memories of the friendly boy from before, Makoto, a girl he couldn’t recall the name of, and…Byakuya. Byakuya Togami. 

But how? That couldn’t be the same Byakuya he knew, right? The guy and Byakuya shared many similarities, but at the same time, his body shape and overall _attitude_ was all wrong. Byakuya was strict yet kind in his own way. He was the group’s self-proclaimed leader. There was never any doubt or distrust. So…

Hajime frowned as that question bounced around his mind unanswered. Along with many others. 

Slow and steady beeping rang in his ears. 

It was the only other sound he heard besides his loud and jumbled thoughts. Hajime shifted his focus off the ceiling, eyes falling to the side to locate the source of the noise. He saw a monitor sitting on a stand, and there were multiple colored lines moving on the screen. It took him a moment to realize that it was an electrocardiogram, that it was showing _his_ vital signs.

So…he was in a hospital, then?

Hajime frowned, probing his mind to answers to why he was in a hospital, where nearly everything was white and where the mask only provided weak protection from the smell of chemicals. He recalled Usami’s graduation ceremony for all of them, and then…and then he was here. Sitting in a hospital bed under a blanket that was a bit too itchy. 

He couldn’t wrap his head around it. At all. 

And Makoto hadn’t been any help. He kept saying that everything was okay, that everyone was alright. Why wouldn’t they be? They had been simply graduating. Moving from one chapter of their lives to another. He was supposed to be on a flight to Hope’s Peak Academy right now, living out his dreams. 

So why was he here?

Why couldn’t he _remember?_

The beeping grew louder, along with his frustration. Something went wrong somehow. Horribly wrong. 

He was unfortunately left in the dark, despite the fluorescent lights shining overhead, since he was completely alone. Hajime stared at the door on the opposite side of the room, it just as white as the surrounding walls. He strained his ears but couldn’t hear anything beyond it, just the incessant beeping. 

He stared and stared, and when no one miraculously walked through, Hajime’s frown deepened before he made a move to sit up. Surprise filled his veins as he struggled to do so, abdominal muscles complaining until he was upright. Hajime breathed heavily, looking down at his blanket like it was the reason for his unexpected weakness. 

However, all thoughts of this strange weakness disappeared when long locks of brown hair appeared in his periphery. Hajime’s breath caught in his throat, eyes widening, as he held the strands with shaky fingers. Beeping increasing in volume again, Hajime shot his hands to his head, digging his fingers into hair that was thick and tangled and much too long. 

How…How long had he been here?

Waiting wasn’t a possibility anymore. He needed answers _now._

Hajime gripped the edges of the oxygen mask, exhaled shakily, and ripped it off his face, tossing it to the side. A series of dry coughs racked his system until his lungs adjusted. Breaths deep and heavy, he glanced down at the hospital gown draped over his shoulders, buttons undone. There were a multitude of attachments taped to him. Those must be for the EKG. 

After a moment of thought, he reached up to carefully remove the tape stuck to his skin, but the door slid open before he got the chance to. 

Hajime snapped his head up to meet sharp blue eyes. The intensity in them made him freeze, the baffling unfamiliarity twisting his stomach.

“And what do you think you’re doing?”

The sharp tone was one similar to a parent scolding a child, and Hajime almost felt like one with how agitated Byakuya looked. His body was tense as he stepped into the room. Hajime nearly flinched when he slammed the door shut, the loud noise contrasting the erratic beeping. 

Byakuya stepped up to the bed, and it was only then when Hajime could tear his gaze from those eyes looking down at him. Instead, Hajime was drawn to the tray held in Byakuya’s tight grip. A paper plate rested on it, holding two pieces of toast slathered with jelly and a small carton of milk. 

Hajime blinked in surprise when the tray was practically tossed into his lap. “Well?” Byakuya barked over the grumbling in his empty stomach. Hajime swallowed thickly as Byakuya crossed his arms, obviously waiting for an answer, and he smothered his shock enough to get his mouth to work.

“I…” Hajime frowned at the sound of his voice. He knew that it was raspy, still recovering from whatever he had gone through, but because of the mask, he hadn’t realized how much deeper it was. But how was that possible? He had _just_ been at Jabberwock Island, so...so…

His mind grinded to a halt, and he met Byuakuya’s gaze, voice quiet and pleading. “What happened?” Byakuya had to know. He had to have all of the answers. If he didn’t, the confusion would swallow him whole. Byakuya remained silent, just looking, and Hajime felt something within himself twist. “Byakuya, _please-“_

“First of all, let me make this clear.” Hajime’s mouth snapped closed, fingers curling around the tray in his possession. He didn’t think it was possible, but Byakuya’s gaze hardened even more. His voice commanded him to listen. “The Byakuya you had grown so...buddy-buddy with is a lie. I am the real Byakuya Togami, not the inadequate fraud that he is.”

“F-Fraud?” Hajime tested the word on his heavy tongue. He hadn’t known what to expect, but it surely wasn’t that. Hajime gaped like a fish out of water, mind trying hard to process this, until something dawned on him. 

Was this guy telling him the truth?

While it was slowly sinking in that this guy and the Byakuya he knew wasn’t the same person, somehow, Hajime was hesitant to believe what was being said. This situation was beyond bizarre, but he couldn’t just accept any answer even though he was practically begging for some. This Byakuya could be a fake for all he knew. 

But then he remembered Makoto. He called this guy Byakuya, right? Makoto seemed so amiable and friendly, so surely he wouldn’t lie too-

Hajime shook head. He couldn’t think like that. Like he knew Makoto in any capacity. Smiling faces could hold dark lies as well as unfriendly ones. However…did he really have a choice? 

“You don’t believe me?” the mysterious Byakuya asked like Hajime’s doubt was obvious. It probably had been written all over his face. Byakuya crossed his arms with a derisive scoff. “I don’t particularly care. I just needed to make clear that I’m not associated with the likes of you.”

“The likes of…” Hajime repeated incredulously, it set in stone now that this guy disliked him, if the earlier glares weren’t hints on their own. Hajime gritted his teeth, glanced at tendrils of his own hair curling around him like snakes, and asked, “Even if you’re not the Byakuya I know, could you fill me in? I...I have no idea what’s going on, and-“

“Eat your breakfast and I’ll tell you.” Byakuya has already turned his back on him at this point, heading for the door. “Call for me when you’re done.”

The door slammed again when he left. 

“Call?” Hajime stared in confusion, with many _many_ other emotions swirling within, before thinking that Byakuya must be standing just outside the door. 

He shakily exhaled before dropping his attention to his breakfast, if it was even that. He had no idea what time it was. There were no clocks in the room, and windows were absent as well. It could be midnight for all he knew. 

Hajime continued to stare, chest constricting from the crushing weight of uncertainty, until he cleared his thoughts as best he could. He cleared everything except for the sweet taste of grape jelly when he crunched on the toast, it being the one bit of familiarity he had since waking up. 

It didn’t take long to finish his small meal. After downing the milk and wiping away any crumbs, Hajime called out to the empty room, “Byakuya? Um, I’m done.”

As soon as he finished talking, and door slid open the reveal Byakuya carrying a single crutch and another person entering behind him wearing hospital scrubs, a nurse. Byakuya stepped aside to get out of her way, and Hajime saw her reluctance once they locked gazes. 

There was fear. It was the same way Makoto had looked at him the first time.

Hajime bunched his fingers in his sheets.

“Stay still as she detaches you from the machine,” Byakuya ordered and nodded for the nurse to start. “Go ahead.”

She seemed to steel herself before walking closer, averting her eyes as she said, “Sit up straight for me.” Hajime did so without any fuss, and she reached for his chest first, gently peeling off the tape until nothing but a low hum emitted from the EKG. 

“Hold out your left arm,” she said next, still not looking him in the face. Hajime obeyed. The nurse took care of the needle nestled in the crook of his elbow, attached to an IV drip. He cringed when she took it out, rubbing the sore spot as she gathered the discarded gas mask. She placed it with all of the other machines by his side before facing Byakuya. “He’s good to go.”

She didn’t wait for a response before leaving. 

“Why…” Sharp blues snapped to Hajime, but he didn’t let the intimidation attempt affect him. Byakuya had promised answers after all. “Why is everyone acting that way around me? Her, you, Makoto…?”

_Please tell me. Please._

“I’ll share that with you in due time,” Byakuya deflected the question, and Hajime felt a flash of anger. 

“You said that you would give me answers!” He rose his voice, it cracking from disuse. He had the right to _know_. “Why can’t you just tell me?”

“Because you won’t believe me unless show you,” Byakuya coldly retorted. His words cracked like a whip, and Hajime didn’t know how to respond. Byakuya clicked his tongue, clearly agitated. “Can you stand?”

Hajime’s anger simmered down to sizzle as he rolled with the topic change. For now. “Uh.” He tossed the blanket to the side and scooted to the edge of the bed. He examined his legs, worried about how thin they had gotten. If it took effort just to sit up, then… “I can try.”

Byakuya rolled his eyes and thrusted the crutch in his direction. “Here. I don’t feel like picking you up off the floor.”

Hajime took it, believing that he was nothing but a burden to Byakuya at this point. Then, why was he here? Hajime had a delirious conversation with Makoto for only a minute, but he’d rather have him here than the familiar-yet-unfamiliar Byakuya. He would even take the girl with lavender hair over him because she didn’t share a face and voice with one of his good friends.

Wherever he, and everyone else, was…

A lump forming in his throat at the thought, Hajime heavily leaned in the crutch as he stood, immediately grateful for it. With how his knees were shaking, there was no way he could’ve done this without any help. That’s probably why Byakuya had it in the first place; there was zero chance of him lending an actual shoulder to lean on. 

Once he got his feet sturdy beneath him, hair hanging down to his knees, Hajime huffed and tried once more to ask a question. “Can you at least…” He took a couple experimental steps forward. It was way more difficult than it should’ve been. “...tell me how long I’ve been in here?”

Byakuya was silent for a moment, and he thought that he was going to be ignored, but then Byakuya said, “Two months. Now, follow me.”

Hajime leaned even more on the crutch because his knees almost gave out from shock. “Two _months?!_ But that’s not possible! I was just...was just…!” Byakuya gave him a sharp look over his shoulder, and he realized that he was yelling. He lowered his voice, but his confusion was still running rampant. “It doesn’t make any sense!”

“It doesn’t?” Byakuya opposed, eyebrow arched as he looked him over. “Considering your condition, I say it makes perfect sense.”

Hajime went to argue, but he held his tongue. It was true that he was weak and thinner, and that his hair was… Wait, his _hair._

“Why is my hair like this?” he asked, hating how heavy it made his head feel. “Even after two months, it shouldn’t be…”

“Stop _talking_.”

The amount of unadulterated _animosity_ present in that sharp order caused Hajime to snap his mouth shut. He watched with wide eyes as Byakuya left without another word, and after a moment, Hajime carefully hobbled after him.

When Hajime stepped out of his room, he was met with more white. The walls were white, the ceiling was white, the floors were white...the only things that weren’t were Byakuya’s black suit and the blue scrubs of the hospital staff wandering the hall. 

They all seemed busy with their work - carrying medicines, checking clipboards - but as soon as Hajime stepped out, all eyes were on him. Hajime stiffened and only focused on Byakuya. He didn’t seem bothered as he led the way to somewhere, but of course he wasn’t. Hajime was the only one people were wary of.

He had half the kind to ask one of them about his current situation. Chances of them responding were slim, though, especially if Byakuya was the one calling the shots. 

Sighing, Hajime chose to stay quiet as he followed the stoic blonde. He wasn’t going at a quick pace, which Hajime was thankful for. He didn’t want to stumble in fall in front of everyone who was _still_ watching him. He forced himself to ignore them in favor of taking in his surroundings, watching in interest as they passed doors lining the hall that were identical to the one to his room. Were his friends in there? Were they in the hospital in the first place?

More questions...too many questions…

Byakuya didn’t say a word until they exited the hallway and turned a corner. Hajime scanned the open area they walked into, seeing it as a main lobby. There was an empty receptionist desk, papers stuck on the walls, chairs gathered in groups. On the opposite side, another hallway branched off. A sign that read ‘Cafeteria’ pointed in that direction. 

“In here.”

There was a creak, and Hajime turned to see Byakuya opening a door to another room tucked into a corner. Hajime entered behind him, pausing when he recognized a person flipping through a packet of paper, standing in front of the many file cabinets that lined the walls of what seemed to be an office. 

It was the girl from before, the one whose name he’d forgotten. She glanced up from her papers when he shuffled in. Surprise flickered in her expression for a split second before settling into a more neutral one. She regarded Byakuya, lowering the papers. “Already?”

“What’s the point of prolonging it?” Byakuya argued as Hajime wondered what in the hell they were talking about. “The faster we get this over with, the quicker the whole process will be.”

“He can barely walk, Byakuya.”

“He got here, didn’t he?”

Despite her monotonous voice, Hajime could tell that she cared about his well being, at least somewhat. “I’m…” He cut into the conversation considering that the girl and Byakuya were having a brief staredown. When they looked at him, he smiled despite the pain in his thighs. “Well, I’m not fine, but I managed. And...can I get your name again? I kinda missed it when I first woke up.”

“Kyoko. Kyoko Kirigiri.” She fully faced him, and unlike Byakuya who had no qualms in communicating his distaste, her gaze was completely unreadable. “Nice to properly meet you, Hajime.”

At least it wasn’t anything negative. “Same here.”

Byakuya scoffed at their action, and before Hajime could read into that, Kyoko addressed the blonde, “Makoto isn’t here yet.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Byakuya griped, words dripping with exasperation. “We’ll start without him, then.” He walked over to a small desk off to the side that was holding a computer. Hajime watched curiously as he booted it up, pressed too many keys to count, and clicked on an application. Then, he moved and pointed to the chair in front of the desk. “Sit.”

Hajime’s hesitance to ‘start’ whatever this was and the feeling of relief at the chance to rest his legs clashed, causing him to stand still for a moment. It was only when Kyoko nodded at him that he moved over, carefully sitting in the chair once he got to it.

Byakuya was quiet as he clicked a couple more things on the monitor. Hajime’s heart raced as he sat, unsure to what was happening, but then a window popped up that showed a multitude of smaller screens. 

Hajime didn’t know what he was looking at for a bit until he noticed that they were showing the inside of other patient rooms. _Occupied_ patient rooms.

His breath hitched as he leaned forward, relief flooding his veins. “That’s them! They’re here too!” Each screen was aimed at the beds, and Hajime saw his friends of peacefully resting, spared of the constant state of confusion Hajime was subjected to-

Wait. 

Hajime leaned even closer and narrowed his eyes, the relief smothered by oncoming concern. “Hold on…” He stared at the footage that caught his attention: a sleeping Fuyuhiko. What made him pause was the nasty jagged scar where his right eye should’ve been. “What…?” His voice was breathy, appalled. Fuyuhiko didn’t have that scar before. Hajime remembered _two_ eyes that glared whenever someone got on Fuyuhiko’s nerves. Not…

“What happened to him?” he asked the air, hoping he would get information now that Kyoko was here.

His hopes were dashed when she quietly said, “Keep looking.”

Hajime almost didn’t want to. He looked over his friends again, slower this time, and saw that while they were resting, it was anything _but_ peaceful. It couldn’t have been. Not when more than half of them were riddled with shallow scars on their faces and arms and…

Hajime’s heart nearly stopped at Nagito. Strangely enough, he was spared from marks that marred his fair skin, but his _arm._

“Where’s…” Hajime could hardly whisper, fingers shaking as they pressed against the screen. He couldn’t tear his eyes from the bandages wrapped around what used to be an elbow. “Where's his arm?”

No answer. 

Hajime whirled around to face them, near hyperventilating. “Where in the _hell_ is his arm? What happened to us!?” Still no response. Byakuya’s expression was cold while Kyoko’s held the smallest of sympathy. But he could be imagining it because this was _too much._ “Please!” He didn’t care that he was yelling anymore. They weren’t supposed to look like this, they weren’t supposed to _be here._

Finally, _finally,_ Kyoko spoke. “You had been unconscious for the last two months.”

“I-I already know that! You didn’t answer my-“

“Your mind had been elsewhere, however,” she continued like Hajime hadn’t interrupted, and he barely processed what she said when she handed him a tablet. 

Hajime resisted the urge to smash it against a wall. He was tired of the avoidance and secrets. Why couldn’t they give him a straight answer?!

“Read it before you start yelling again,” Byakuya ordered, unfazed by Hajime’s anger.

Hajime’s fingers tensed around the tablet while he took a deep breath to calm himself. It only worked somewhat. He glimpsed over to Nagito once more before reading the damn thing in his hands. 

“The...Neo World Program?” Hajime read as more words appeared for him to see, along with pie charts and graphs. 

_Goes by another name: Psychotherapeutic Communication Simulator…_

_Mounting device to cranium...allows subjects to experience a Synthetic Virtual World…_

Hajime’s breath stuttered at the line. “Virtual world? Why...are you showing me this?” He looked up at them, but their expressions provided nothing. Hajime swallowed thickly, the urge to throw this as far away from him growing, as he resumed reading.

_Has another feature...able to replace memories formed in the real world with information contained in the virtual world...possible to undo trauma…_

“Possible to undo trauma? What?” Hajime said when he finished, futility scrolling down for more information. The words ‘Neo World Program’ flashed repeatedly on the screen, bright and neon and Hajime felt sick to his stomach. 

“Again, why…” Hajime held it out for Kyoko to take, keeping himself under control because that was simply a prank. A cruel inside joke that didn’t make sense to him. “Why did you show me that? It doesn’t have anything to do with me!”

Kyoko sighed as she took it. “Remember when you first arrived on Jabberwock Island.” Hajime froze because how in the world did she know about him being there? Maybe she was part of the rescue team when whatever happened...happened? Kyoko turned the tablet off and pinned him with her look. “You were confused, right? Unsure to how you got there from Hope’s Peak Academy.”

His lungs suddenly struggled to work, breath shallow and erratic. “No - How did you - It wasn’t like that-“

“Yes, it was.” Her voice was calm and sure, the complete opposite of Hajime. “The Neo World Program is a sandbox. Anything goes. Placing a classroom on a beach is child’s play.” 

Hajime’s throat constricted as she talked. He was surprised that he could get his next words out. “Are you...Are you saying that I was put _in_ that fake world? Are you expecting me to _believe_ that?”

“Absolutely,” Byakuya curtly stated. He stepped closer and looked down at Hajime. “Didn’t you find it strange that you couldn’t remember your Ultimate Talent even though everyone else did?”

“You…” Hajime looked over to the monitor at his side, looking at the Byakuya he had gotten to know. He was unconscious on the bed, _not_ the one in front of him. “Y-You weren’t there! How do you know-“

He kept going without missing a beat. “You couldn’t remember because you weren’t _allowed_ to.”

Hajime shook his head and pushed Byakuya away from him. He...He needed space to _think_. “No, just stop with your lies!” He placed a hand over his chest, feeling his heart pound against his rib cage. “That can’t be true! I wasn’t put in that fake world because everything that happened there had been real! I ate, slept, and made friends there!”

_Sat under the stars, dreamed, admired, yearned…_

Byakuya smoothed out any crinkles in his suit. “Be lucky that I have an incredible amount of patience,” he said, and Hajime didn’t believe him one bit. “Yes, you felt that it was real because you had been _in_ the program.” He narrowed his eyes. “But don’t tell me that you didn’t question anything while there. The ever-perfect weather, the continuous amounts of food, the magical stuffed _bunny?”_

Hajime had questioned that, multiple times, but he wasn’t going to give them what they wanted to hear. They were trying to confuse him because what they were saying was impossible. There was no way. 

“I…” Hajime dug in his mind for a rebuttal. “How do you two know all of that anyway? Did you put cameras around the island or something?” That had to be it. Definitely. “That’s an invasion of privacy!”

Byakuya pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Kyoko, you handle this.”

“You can’t be surprised that this is happening," she replied before getting closer like Byakuya had. Unlike him however, she crouched down so they were eye-to-eye. “Listen to me, Hajime. We’re telling the truth, and deep down, you know we are.”

_No, I don’t know._

_I don’t, I don’t._

Hajime tried to look away, but he couldn’t. Doing so would mean he gave in, that he lost. He wasn’t going to lose this. They were the wrong ones here. 

_They are, they are, they are._

“Because of the Neo World Program,” Kyoko began, “It all makes sense. The existence of Usami, everyone’s amnesia, us knowing things we couldn’t normally, your friends not looking the same as you remember them. It’s because of the simulation. What you were in the program was an avatar created from your memories before Hope’s Peak Academy.”

“Be...fore?” Hajime repeated, not wanting to believe but everything was adding up. All of the impossibilities were coming together to form something plausible. Something terrifying. “What do you mean? If what you’re saying is true, then no memories should’ve been erased! I barely spent any time at Hope’s Peak!”

Kyoko closed her eyes, sighing long and deep once more, and Hajime felt a chill run down his spine. “Byakuya, can you look for his file?” A grunt was her only answer, and Kyoko met his gaze again. “Things are going to get even more confusing, and I’m sorry. But you can trust us. As Hope’s Peak graduates, we have to stick together, okay?”

Hajime’s eyes widened. They went to Hope’s Peak? “Seriously?” His voice was small now, sharply contrasting the shouting from earlier. The weight of everything was weakening it. 

Kyoko nodded with a hint of a smile. “Yes, Class 78.”

“No.” Hajime plastered himself to the back of his chair, shaking his head. “No no no! I’m part of Class 77, and I just started as a freshman!”

Kyoko said nothing to that, standing once Byakuya returned with a small stack of papers stapled together. There was the Hope’s Peak Academy crest stamped on it. Byakuya dropped it in his lap, and Hajime instantly was drawn to the picture staring back up at him. He frowned before reading the name underneath.

_Izuru Kamukura_

“This...isn’t mine,” Hajime murmured as looked at those piercing red eyes. Something inside compelled him to keep reading, however, going over the boy’s characteristics. He blinked at the talent listed. “Ultimate...Hope? What does that even mean?”

Brushing that aside for now, he flipped the page, finding it drastically different from the first. There was nothing about Hope’s Peak, only about...Ultimate Despair? There should be more about that down the page, right? He believed so, continuing on. 

When he reached a section labeled ‘Criminal Charges’, Hajime debated reading only to go through with it anyway.

_Terrorist attacks_

_Involved in many assisted suicide cases_

_Enabling gang activity_

_Thirteen known accounts of murder in the first degree at Hope’s Peak Acad-_

Hajime only got that far before flinging the file away. “That’s not me,” he breathed, feeling like an elephant was sitting in his chest. “That’s not…” He shot Byakuya an accusatory look. “Why would you give me the wrong file? Especially since he…” He couldn’t finish his sentence, words dying out. 

Byakuya, once again, stayed silent. He was staring hard at an adjacent wall with his jaw clenched. Hajime looked for Kyoko to answer only to find that she wasn’t in the room anymore. Did she leave while he was reading? Why? Why did they give him that in the first place? Why was _any_ of this happening to him?

_Why, why, why-_

Hajime startled when Kyoko walked back into the room, her facial features neutral again. Nothing to show, nothing to tell, and Hajime felt an inexplicable amount of fear once he saw the mirror in her hand. 

As she approached him, Hajime wanted to hide, run away, do something to avoid all of this. He needed to go home, back to his parents, back where his head didn’t feel like it was about to explode. The island would be good too. He could go back there, have things return to normal. He’d wake up in his cottage, eat breakfast with everyone, spend time with Nagito and finally tell him…

“Once again.” Kyoko stopped in front of him. “I’m sorry, Hajime.”

She held up the mirror, and all he saw were blood red eyes piercing his soul.

Hajime loudly gasped, feeling like a bolt of lightning stuck him, wiring his nerves, his legs itching to _move._ On impulse, he swiped at the mirror and sent it crashing to the floor. He didn't know if it shattered or not, for he was looking at nothing but the exit. His blood pounded in his ears, matching his jackhammering pulse. He had to get away...away from all of _this._

Hajime hastily stood, took a step, and promptly collapsed to the ground when his knees buckled. He hissed when his side took the brunt of the impact, sending shocks of pain throughout his tired body. Byakuya and Kyoko were yelling something, but he blocked him out. Because he was Hajime Hinata. Not Izuru. He wasn't a killer, he had green eyes, he had short hair he could barely get a brush through, he had-

"What's going on?!"

Another voice tore through his thoughts. It was loud, panicked, but Hajime recognized it. Makoto. He lifted his head and found the boy standing in the doorway, shock etched in his expression. Not a second passed before Makoto ran over to him, kneeling down and placing a hand on his shoulder. He aimed his next question at his coworkers. "What happened to him?"

"He forgot about the weakness in his legs," Kyoko softly said.

Makoto's frown was prominent as he looked over Hajime. "Are you okay? Nothing is seriously hurt, right?"

Hajime stared into those kind eyes again, and his world began to blur. His throat grew tighter as he grasped at Makoto's sleeve. "It's a lie," he choked out, struggling to hold everything back. "Please tell me it's all a lie."

Makoto seemed confused for a second; however, there was then a sadness in his gaze that told him everything.

Hajime couldn't stop the tears that came next.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally updated this fic only to bring more pain to Hajime. Don't worry, he'll get a break...sooner or later

Hajime heard them arguing outside.

“-waited until I got here!”

“No one told you to oversleep, Makoto.”

“It’s not like I meant to! I thought the plan was to have all three of us there! I could’ve-”

“Done what? Padded things out by including superfluous steps that aren’t needed?”

“If it would’ve kept him from having a panic attack, then yes!”

“Why aren’t you yelling at Kyoko too? She didn’t do anything to stop me.”

“I – That’s – Because I know how you can be sometimes. I didn’t want-”

“Me to be harsh on him? Is that what this ridiculous conversation is about? Did you  _ forget _ what he- _ ” _

“But the program-”

“It doesn’t erase the past! He still participated, still killed-”

Hajime forced those voices out of his head, a fuzzy numbness engulfing the space and crawling down his spine. He couldn’t think, had no emotions as he stared forward. His eyes stung, red and tired, and his throat was raw from strain.

There was a movement in his periphery, harsh scraping echoing in his ears. Hajime turned his head, and a long strand of hair fell in front of his face. He fought the urge to tear it out. Beyond it, Kyoko was cleaning up the mirror he had shattered to pieces with a broom and dustpan. Her expression was unbothered. It didn’t so much crack when he had broken down.

His mouth ran on autopilot. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Kyoko said, but it wasn’t. None of this was fine. Hajime watched her grab the dustpan and dump the glass into a trash can tucked away in the corner of the room. She faced him, tucking a hair behind her ear. “It was a normal reaction after what you just learned.”

Her voice was soft yet matter-of-fact, differing from the ones still arguing outside the door. 

Kyoko’s level gaze flickered toward the noise, and she shallowly sighed. “I’ll be right back.”

“Wait,” his mouth called before his brain told it to. Kyoko paused in her step, waiting, and Haijme looked down at the file he had tossed away earlier. He swallowed thickly and asked, “Is there another one of me? Before…” He couldn’t say it because he still couldn’t fully believe it. Refused to. 

But it seemed like his opinion didn’t matter at all. 

Kyoko’s nod was curt as she gathered the Izuru file. “It’s in the back of this one.”

“Oh.” Hints of embarrassment swirled within the numbness only to be immediately washed away. “Sorry,” he said again, voice merely a whisper.

Kyoko didn’t respond, simply handing the file over before exiting the room, leaving him alone. The voices outside stopped for a moment before restarting again. Hajime continued blocking them out. 

He avoided the blood red gaze staring up at him on the paper, hastily flipping through until he found something more familiar, something that wouldn’t flip his entire world view on its head. He found that something in the form of the words _Hajime_ _Hinata_ , along with a picture of himself with short hair and mossy green eyes. _That_ was him, not Izuru. Despite…

Hajime took a deep breath, staring at his picture for a few more moments, before reading his information. Everything looked normal with it listing biological information, contacts, and family, but Hajime froze when he read  _ Reserve Course Student. _

“Reserve Course?” He said the words aloud, frowning. “I’ve never heard of that before…” But then again, he’d learned many things today that he hasn’t known beforehand. This Reserve Course was tame compared to the rest. Hajime stared for a few more seconds until he realized that something was missing. He flipped through the file again before swallowing thickly. 

His Ultimate wasn’t listed anywhere. 

That had to be a mistake, right? Or…

Gritting his teeth, Hajime flipped to the beginning pages, hesitant to look as if doing so would make the words more true. Izuru Kamukura stared back at him once more, and he read underneath: Ultimate Hope. 

Did that extend to Hajime too? Had he been the Ultimate Hope beforehand? Before...everything?

Hajime startled in his seat when the office door opened, and he whipped his head around to see Kyoko stroll back in, Makoto and Byakuya following her. Whatever argument they had ended, it seemed.

However, with how Byakuya was still eyeing him like he was nothing but a piece of gum on the bottom of his shoe, Hajime doubted anything was achieved. 

In contrast, Makoto was smiling, but there was an undertone to it that Hajime couldn’t make out. “Sorry about that! We just had to uh...talk about something.”

Byakuya scoffed before making his way over to the file cabinets. He busied himself over there, and Hajime was slightly relieved. He’d rather not be at the end of Byakuya’s cold stare longer than he had to be. 

“Are you, well, I know you’re not okay, but…” Makoto floundered with his words for a moment, uncertainty flashing in his eyes, and Hajime understood. He understood that Makoto wanted to help, and that he knew Hajime wouldn’t be okay for a long time. 

Makoto didn’t finish his sentence, instead grabbing a chair and sliding closer to Hajime. He sat down and gave a small smile. Hajime wanted to be comforted by it, by the unspoken promise that everything was eventually going to be okay, but he couldn’t. The numbness hadn’t gone away, clouding his mind, constricting his throat. 

“I know...that it’s a lot.” Makoto folded his hands in his lap, fiddling with the cuffs of his suit. “I can answer any questions, if you want me to.”

There were many  _ many _ questions rattling around his head, bringing on a dull headache that throbbed at the base of his skull. Hajime opened his mouth and instantly had to close it when another sob threatened to escape. He refused to break down again. Not in front of them.

Hajime took a deep breath and tried another question.  _ Why did this happen?  _ Was too much for him to say, to handle at the moment. “What’s...the Reserve Course?” he managed to ask despite his heavy tongue. 

“Ah.” Makoto glanced down at the files in his lap. He leaned back in his chair, glancing over to Kyoko, who was leaning against the table and listening. Her expression gave nothing away. Makoto continued, “Well, the Reserve Course was an expansion of Hope’s Peak.” Was. Past tense. For some reason, Hajime’s mind focused on that, and his stomach twisted. “It was...well…” Makoto took a breath. “It was a place for students that wanted to go to Hope’s Peak but didn’t get directly scouted by them.”

“They would get the same education as Ultimates,” Kyoko added, voice monotone. “After paying much greater fees compared.”

“They’d get the same as…” Hajime trailed off when their words processed in his muddled mind. “The same education as Ultimates? But then-“ He gasped when it finally clicked, and his fingers stiffened, crinkling the papers in his grip. His voice was barely there when he spoke, “I...went there, so I didn’t…?” He hoped with all he had that that wasn’t the case. He’d been waiting so  _ long _ to find out how he fit in with the others, how amazing he was, how…

But he had to learn to stop hoping. 

Makoto shook his head, even though it seemed like the action pained him. His eyes were laced with it. “No, you didn’t have an Ultimate Talent, Hajime. I’m...I’m sorry.”

The numbness intensified, drying his mouth like cotton. 

“Why?” Hajime wasn’t even sure that he spoke. That question was the only thing repeating in his head. It kept repeating and repeating on loop, anger being kicked up as it echoed non-stop. His throat was tight and his eyes stung again. “Why? In the simulation-“ In that massive lie. “-why did you make believe…?”

“We didn’t  _ make _ you believe anything.” Byakuya’s cutting voice came from the filing cabinet. He was still going through folders. Hajime hadn’t known that he was listening. “You possessing a talent was your conclusion that you came up with. Don’t blame us for that.”

Makoto and Kyoko casted him looks, one more exasperated than the other. 

Hajime didn’t understand. If everything about the simulation was true, then  _ they _ were the ones who took his memory. If...If he had known… “I was the only one who didn’t remember,” he whispered, but he was sure his anger was getting through with how Makoto averted his eyes. “Of course I would think I was an Ultimate! What was the point-“

“To have you fit in with the others in a way that aroused the least suspicion.” Kyoko had interrupted this time. Her words held no bite, though. Only facts. Facts that Hajime didn’t want to hear. “We wanted to make the island as believable as possible. Having one Reserve Course student in a class of Ultimates would’ve raised many doubts and questions.”

Hajime...could see where she was coming from. His friends would’ve wondered why an outsider had gone on the ‘trip’ with them. 

An outsider…

Hajime loosened his grip on the paper, anger smothered again by fuzziness and exhaustion that was settling in. He hadn’t physically done anything but his mind...it was  _ tired.  _ “So, I was never in a class with them…”

_ I was never special. _

What would the others think if they learned about that? What would  _ Nagito _ think?

_ “All Ultimates are awe-inducing, no matter what they are.” _

Hajime felt sick.

“But...I don’t think it would matter to them, if they found out.” Makoto was smiling again, soft and knowing. “Because you’ve been friends with them for this long, you know? Even if it had been in a simulation.”

Hajime didn’t - couldn’t respond to that. He wanted to believe him, but how could he? Makoto couldn’t see into the future. His friendships with the others were built on the foundation of lies. That he was an Ultimate, that they all were classmates, that they were on a  _ school trip.  _ All lies. Things weren’t going to stay the same. 

Especially…

Hajime looked back down at the file in his hands, at the red eyes looking right back at him. Izuru Kamukura. He still didn’t understand how they were connected. How he was  _ him.  _ It was...It was impossible. And then, his talent was Ultimate Hope, so how…?

“Izuru…” Hajime muttered, not wanting to say the name out loud. To make it real. Makoto leaned a little forward to listen. Hajime looked up at him and asked, “What’s Ultimate Hope and Ultimate Despair? How can I possibly be him if I don’t-“ his words stuttered. “-don’t have a talent?”

Hajime wasn’t comforted at all when the smile slowly waned, losing energy. Makoto fiddled with his cuff again and looked to the side, pondering hard and making Hajime regret asking the question. Kyoko’s stare remained emotionless as she watched Makoto, and he noticed that Byakuya’s movements had slowed as he thumbed through a stack of papers. They were waiting on the answer like he was.

A second or a year later, Makoto met his gaze again. His eyes held sympathy and sadness, his emotions worn on his sleeve. His voice was gentle as he spoke, “It’s...going to be a long story.” He glanced at the exit of the office and then at Hajime’s legs. “How well can you walk? I want to show you around outside.”

Before Hajime could question the abrupt change of topic, Byakuya looked over his shoulder and glared at the back of Makoto’s head. “ _ Makoto,  _ if you-“

“I’m not,” Makoto said heavily, making Byakuya’s eyes narrow. Makoto looked over to him and shallowly nodded. “I’m going to tell him everything. I just...think having some fresh air would help him.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, silently communicating, before Byakuya scoffed and returned to the papers. “It won’t, and you know that.”

Makoto didn’t respond to him, instead smiling at Hajime again. How could he smile so much at a time like this? “So, how about it? I understand if you’re not up to it, though. You did just take a rough tumble…”

He did, and his side still hurt from it. His legs had just recovered from the strain of walking to the office. He was sure that his whole body would start complaining as soon as he stood up. However, he needed to leave, to go escape the ever-present whiteness and sterilized smell of the hospital. And escape Byakuya too, if only for a bit.

“If we find a place to sit, I’ll be fine…” Hajime started to reach for his crutch only to pause when his hair slid off his lifted arm, dangling to the floor and pooling there, twisting and turning like his stomach at the sight. “Can…” He wanted it gone. All of it. “Can I cut my hair first? It’s heavy, and I don’t want it to get caught on anything.”

“You’re delusional if you think we’re letting you  _ near _ any potential weapons,” was Byakuya’s derisive response. Hajime flinched at his cutting words, sharp enough to be weapons themselves. “Plus, no one wants hair all over the floor.”

Kyoko sighed. “Brooms exist for a reason, Byakuya. I’ll clean it up. It isn’t a big deal.” Byakuya clicked his tongue but said nothing else. Kyoko pushed off the table, words aimed at Hajime now. “We must err on the side of caution, however, so I’ll do it for you. Don’t take it personally.”

It was hard not to, but Hajime nodded anyway. “Okay,” he muttered. 

Kyoko then strolled out of the room.

Makoto rubbed the back of his neck, chuckling. “I would’ve offered to help, but you see my hair.” He ran his fingers through the shaggy strands. “I try to cut it, and I have to get help from Kyoko or someone else every time.”

Hajime humored him because he was trying his best to lighten the situation. “Really?” Hajime should try too. To lighten the fuzziness in his head. “Just like me, except I’m too stubborn to ask for help.”

“Byakuya’s the same,” Kyoko said when she returned, scissors and another mirror in hand. “Except with everything he does.”

Byakuya was quick to bark out, “That’s because I don’t  _ need  _ help with anything. There’s nothing you can do that I can't do better.”

Kyoko simply hummed at that, and Makoto’s grin was slight, but there nonetheless. 

Hajime was slightly reminded of Fuyuhiko, how his barks never had any bite to them. Akane and Kazuichi would tease him all the time about it, and...Hajime wondered how that was going to change. How everyone would. 

“Here.” He was torn out of his thoughts when Kyoko held the hand mirror out to him. “I’m familiar with your hairstyle, but I want you to guide me so I don’t cut too short.” 

“Okay,” Hajime said again, taking the mirror after hesitating a moment. He angled it toward his face and exhaled shakily. Blood red eyes were staring right back at him, framed by strands of hair that were much too long. He barely looked like himself. The hair was one thing, but the  _ eyes.  _

_ How? How did this happen? What happened...to me? _

Kyoko didn’t say anything as he stepped behind him, and Hajime heard the scissors easily slice through the strands. Every snip made the weight in his stomach a little lighter; not much, though. 

“While you do that...do you need any help over there, Byakuya?” Makoto was standing up now, walking over to the cabinets.

“Did you not hear what I just said?” Byakuya casted him an irked look. “Go back to fraternizing with the-“ He cut himself off, holding a hand up to his right ear. Hajime watched, confused, until he said, “The supplies ship arrived? It’s about time. I’m on my way.” He lowered his hand from the ear piece Hajime had just noticed and pressed the files he was holding against Makoto’s chest. “Since you want to help out so badly, organize all of these in alphabetical order.”

Makoto sputtered, but otherwise didn’t get a chance to protest before Byakuya walked out of the office.

Hajime watched him go with a small frown. A supplies ship? It was only then that his curiosity of the hospital's unknown location skyrocketed, as well as the occupation of these three Hope’s Peak graduates. They were dressed in clean suits that contrasted the scrubs the rest of the nurses and doctors wore, Hajime had...criminal charges but this certainly wasn’t a prison, and it seemed like they were the ones in charge here, at least Byakuya was. They still looked pretty young, but being Hope’s Peak graduates-

Wait.

Ice-cold realization flooded his veins as he recalled his long hair, his changed voice. Hajime opened and closed his mouth a few times before managing to ask, “How...How old am I?” The sound of slicing scissors paused, and Makoto looked up from the task in his hands. Hajime stared into the mirror another moment before addressing Makoto. “You’re a class under me, but…” He braced himself for the answer before he asked the question. “How many years of memories did you…?”

Kyoko continued cutting. Makoto rested the file on the table, pulling out a few documents. His voice was quieter when he spoke. “Around...four years. Four years ago was when it all started.”

Hajime’s heart dropped. Four years of his life had been washed away, just like that? Completely gone? Four years...of him being Izuru?

“We wouldn’t have done it if it hadn’t been completely necessary,” Kyoko said, stepping over to focus on the side of his head, snipping his hair shoulder length. He saw the strands flutter to the ground in the mirror. “It’s best if you don’t remember your life as him. How short do you want me to go?”

She was holding up a thick lock of hair; Hajime forced his heavy tongue to move. “About an inch or so.” Kyoko raised the scissors until they were positioned around that length, arching a brow in question, and Hajime nodded. 

Blades cut, papers shifted, and Hajime said nothing else as red eyes stared up at him.

The room was quiet after that, except for the slicing scissors and Makoto fumbling around with the documents. Hajime simply looked in the mirror as Kyoko worked, keeping his mind blank, welcoming the numbness so he wouldn’t break down again. He had corrected Kyoko once or twice about the length, but that was it. He sat in silence until she finished. 

“There.” Kyoko stepped back, and Hajime lifted the mirror to see his familiar haircut, even the one stubborn lock of hair that refused to lay down with the rest. It was how it was supposed to be. 

“It’s perfect.” Hajime ran a hand through his coarse strands, bringing them back to life. “Thanks, Kyoko.” He then looked down at all of the hair coating the floor and said, “Sorry about the mess…”

Kyoko shook her head. “There’s no need to apologize. I offered.” She went over to fetch the broom, glancing over at her coworker. “Are you almost finished, Makoto?”

Makoto rubbed the back of his head, standing over papers scattered all over the table. “Not even close, but I don’t think Byakuya would care if I don’t do it. I could always get back to it later. Most of these cabinets need a little reworking…” he mumbled that last part before smiling at Hajime. “Your hair looks great! I bet it feels lighter, huh?”

Hajime nodded, not missing the weight of all of it. “Definitely.” He looked down at the mess again. So, was that four years worth of hair? Why did he stop caring about it? Why…?

“Since that’s done-“ Makoto was walking over now, careful not to step on the snaking locks. He held out a hand for Hajime to take. “-want to go breathe in the island air?”

“The island?” Hajime took his hand and his crutch simultaneously, feeling his legs protest. The soreness wasn’t that bad. Yet. He let go of Makoto and frowned. “We’re...still on Jabberwock Island?” For some reason, that thought hadn’t crossed his mind. Were they in the hospital on the third island, then? In an upgraded version?

“Yeah.” Makoto walked over to the door and held it open for him. “The Neo World Program is based here. That’s why Jabberwock was the location in the simulation. That...and because we wanted you guys to have fun too.”

Hajime shuffled over and through the door, entering the lobby that  _ was _ familiar now that he knew better. It wasn’t nearly as dilapidated as the lobby back in the...in the simulation, but it was definitely the same place. He remembered Mikan stitching Kazuichi’s arm here after he had tripped and fell on a glass cup. Hajime should’ve known something was off when the cut had completely healed after only two days. How had he been so oblivious? He had been too busy pretending that he was one of  _ them _ to-

“Hajime?” He was thrown out of his spiraling thoughts to find Makoto staring at him with a sad yet knowing expression on his face. His eyes held compassion. “Look, I…” The smile was back, small yet warm. “I know we haven’t known each other for long, but trust me. Inside or outside the program, they’re still your friends.”

Hajime wanted to believe him. He really did, however- “You don’t know…”

“You’re right, I don’t,” Makoto said with a confidence that he didn’t expect. “But I have a gut feeling. I’ve learned to trust it because, well, it’s gotten me this far.”

Hajime didn’t know how to respond to that, not exactly persuaded by Makoto’s gut feeling, especially since his was shouting the exact opposite. Makoto took his silence in stride, though, the smile never leaving as he led Hajime to the exit of the hospital. 

Makoto held the door open for him again, asking, “How are your legs holding up?”

“They’re...holding,” he answered as he limped forward, the strain not being too bad now. He knew that it wouldn’t last for long. Hajime nodded in thanks before crossing the threshold, and he immediately breathed in the familiar sea breeze, the coolness caressing his face. It felt nice. If he closed his eyes, he could almost pretend that this nightmare hadn’t happened, that he could live out another day with his friends on Jabberwock Island. 

But he couldn’t. No matter how much he yearned for it.

Hajime looked around as Makoto shut the door behind them, taking in his surroundings that were the same yet different. The signature rust-colored sand of the third island covered all that Hajime could see, even dusting the lot in front of the hospital. However, instead of the parking spaces being empty, there were multiple carts and trucks parked, ranging in shapes and sizes. All were labeled with the name ‘Future Foundation’.

“Future Foundation…” Hajime said, and Makoto looked up at him in question. “Is that the company you work for?”

“Yeah.” Makoto opened his mouth to elaborate, but movement to the side made him pause. Hajime followed his line to sight to find a couple of nurses walking toward the entrance. Well, they had been, for they had completely frozen when they recognized Hajime. Something within him twisted. Makoto took a step in the direction opposite of them. “Well, it’s kinda hard to explain without you knowing...all of the details, so let’s go find a place to sit.”

Hajime’s gaze lingered in the nurses, their obvious fear, and clenched his jaw. But again, he didn’t say anything. He trudged behind Makoto until they were out of the lot and into the near dilapidated walkway that Hajime was more familiar with. He remembered walking this path with Chiaki and Kazuichi whenever they wanted to visit Electric Avenue. And it always had to be midday, when the sun was shining its brightest...the opposite of now.

Hajime looked up at the sky. It was overcast. Something so common that never happened in the simulation. Grey clouds concealed vibrant blue, dulling the colors of everything around. The sand, the sun struggling and failing to peek through, and the waves in the distance. They were dreary, lifeless even. Another stark difference of then and now. 

“Oh, and in case you’re wondering…” Makoto spoke up from beside him, having been silent for the last five minutes or so. “This Jabberwock Island and the one we made for you aren’t all that different.” Makoto thought for a moment. “Well, besides the fourth and fifth islands. There isn’t an amusement park here, and no factory either. They’re basically untouched.” 

Hajime shouldn’t have been surprised because a whole island with a functioning amusement park had been so  _ out there _ , along with the factory that produced countless Usami plushies. He was sure Mikan had at least ten of those in her cottage. 

“Really?” Surprise widened Hajime’s eyes anyway. “Then, you just...put them there?”

Makoto nodded. “To keep you all entertained. It was the same with um…” He cleared his throat, glancing away. “Titty Typhoon. It was something to keep you guys from getting bored.” Then he muttered quietly, “I still don’t understand why we let Hiro name it…”

But Hajime wasn’t listening. He was looking in the direction of the concert hall, seeing an abandoned building in the distance standing where it should’ve been. While the Typhoon was a large building with plenty of space to party and listen to Ibuki’s songs, that building with nothing but a shack with a sinking roof. 

“It might’ve been a boat rental place beforehand,” Makoto said. “But I’m not totally sure. The Electric Ave is still here though, unchanged. As well as the motel.” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, pointing to where they had been. “That’s where we’re all staying for now while we help you guys. The port’s that way too.”

Hajime carefully stepped around a jagged crack in the concrete. “The other islands are the same, then?”

Makoto nodded. “Completely the same, if not a little dated. We’re the first ones to Jabberwock in a while.”

“That’s good,” Hajime said if only to give an answer this time. Makoto was so nice that it felt wrong to not say anything at all. 

They walked again in silence, nothing reaching Hajime’s ears but the chirping seagulls above and the leisurely tide shifting the sands. Makoto breaked the quiet over a while, pointing near the water. “There are a few beach chairs that we can use. I’ll drag them closer!” He jogged away before Hajime responded, kicking up sand that stuck to the bottom of his pants.  


Makoto gripped the back of two chairs, pulling them over and leaving deep lines in the sand. Hajime wanted to help, but he was sure he’d be on the ground before he could lift a finger. Makoto let them go near the path, looking Hajime over and asking, “Do you need help sitting down?”

“Nah, I’m good.” At least, Hajime hoped so. He carefully stepped from the walkway onto the sand, thankful that it was more compact here than near the water. He shuffled over and lowered himself into the plastic chair, withholding a wince when his thighs complained. 

Makoto sat as well, facing Hajime a bit, and folded his hands in his lap. He looked as nervous as Hajime felt right now, for he knew that he was about to get answers he may or may not want to hear. But he had to. He had to know why all of this happened, from his memories being wiped to Izuru. All of it. 

“Okay, first.” Makoto took a deep breath and looked Hajime in the eye. “About Ultimate Hope and Ultimate Despair...I guess I should explain the Hope part first, and Izuru, because explaining Ultimate Despair is...going to take a while.”

Hajime nodded, and Makoto didn’t waste a second.

“Having Ultimate Hope, in your - Izuru’s case, actually meant that he had all known talents. He was the Ultimate...Everything, basically.”

Hajime already had to stop him. “I - He -  _ What?” _ Of all things he expected Makoto to say, that wasn’t one of them. “Every known talent? Th-That’s not possible!”

Makoto shook his head with a small sigh. “Naturally, it isn’t, but…” He glanced out toward the undulating waves. “Hope’s Peak Academy had been working on something called the Izuru Kamukura Project, where a student with every talent could be looked upon by others as the Ultimate Hope, to bring peace.” His voice quieted. “The experiment could only work on Reserve Students, though, those with no talent.”

Hajime took a long moment to process those words, his mouth drying out as he shakily asked, “D-Did I…?”

“Yeah.” Makoto sounded strained, like he didn’t want to admit it himself. “You offered yourself, at the cost of erasing your personality, memories, and all emotion. It's the reason your eyes are red, too.”

Hajime adamantly shook his head. He couldn’t believe this. Turning a kid into some kind of  _ superhero _ was straight out of fiction, and  _ he  _ requested to do it? That had to be a lie. Had to be. Despite being in the Reserve Course, Hajime couldn’t see his past self sinking so low just to...

“No,” Hajime argued. “ _ No.  _ There’s no way I would do that knowing-“

“I don’t know if you knew or not, but...you went through with it.” Makoto’s voice was barely heard over the waves at this point, filled to the brim with emotion. His eyes once again held sympathy, and Hajime’s chest tightened. Either Makoto was the best liar in the world, or...or… “They erased you and left behind an emotionless husk they could pump talents into.”

Hajime couldn’t speak for a good while, his mouth opening and closing without sound. Confusion and denial swam around his tired mind until he could do nothing but accept what was told. His body felt heavy when he murmured, “And because I’m me now, then this...happened-“

Makoto gave a small nod. “Four years ago. If we had a chance to not erase so many of your memories, we would have. But, as it was…”

Hajime stared at him for another second before lowering his gaze to the sand, a hint of sadness bubbling within. “And... _ Hope’s Peak _ did this?” He couldn’t imagine it. The one place he admired the most had  _ experimented  _ on him. Thankfully, Hajime was...back, but human experimentation like that was completely fucked.

“There were a lot of scary secrets in that school, believe me,” Makoto said with a tiny laugh, but there was barely any mirth behind it. 

And Hajime caught it again. Makoto using the past tense.

Hajime flicked a loose thread on his hospital gown, recalling Izuru’s file. “I - He killed people.” He had to force himself into thinking they were separate people, that his own hands hadn’t taken people’s lives. “That doesn’t sound like someone called the Ultimate Hope to me.”

“Definitely not.” Makoto sighed again. “The project led to disaster, killings, and…” He smiled at Hajime, it slight but still there. “That’s why we wanted to get you back as soon as possible. To stop Izuru for good.”

Hajime made a small sound of assent. He glanced down at his hand, knowing that he shouldn’t have these thoughts, but, “So, he’s gone, along with...all of his talents?” Makoto’s nod didn’t surprise him at all, and he immediately smothered the disappointment bubbling within. He shouldn’t want  _ any _ reminders of Izuru. The eyes were already enough. He apparently had been talentless for this long, so…so...

... _ it still isn’t fair. _

Makoto opened his mouth to say something, but then he rethought it, going instead with, “It’s because of Izuru and the Ultimate Despair that Hope’s Peak shut down.”

Hajime snapped his eyes up to meet Makoto’s. “Shut down? Seriously?” It made sense given what he had learned, but he never would’ve  _ imagined _ that the academy would fall so far. And, wait- “Izuru  _ and _ Ultimate Despair? You make it sound like they’re not the same thing. He had...every talent, right? Aren’t they one in the same?” It was even written on the file. 

“Not...really.” Makoto shifted in his seat, eyes growing a bit distant. “While Ultimate Despair had been a talent-“ There he went with the past tense again. “-people used it more commonly as the name of a group.”

“A group?”

Makoto was silent for a beat too long, refocusing on the shifting sea. “It all started with Junko Enoshima.” Hajime frowned in confusion, never having heard that name before. Makoto elaborated after glancing at him for a split second. “She was a girl from my class.”

Past tense. Hajime’s frown deepened.

Makoto absentmindedly drew a line into the sand with his shoe. “She was the Ultimate Fashionista, or at least, that’s what I had thought she was.” He deeply exhaled. “Until she revealed her true colors. She craved despair, chaos, and wanted everyone else to feel the same.”

“She...what?” Hajime was barely following this. 

Makoto slowly nodded, eyes growing sadder. “She wanted nothing else but destruction and mayhem, because of her actual talent: the Ultimate Analytic. She wanted despair because she couldn't predict it. So…” Makoto scratched the back of his neck. “She somehow found out about the project and sought Izuru out while they hid you in Hope’s Peak. And because he had all known Talents…”

Hajime’s mind was spinning. He began to feel nauseous because even though he didn’t have a clue what was going on, Makoto’s look and how he trailed off made the answer very clear. “I...had her talent too…”

“Izuru did,” Makoto corrected before quietly continuing, “I guess...she persuaded him to follow her, to become Ultimate Despair.”

“So I...he killed...because of her?” Hajime breathily asked, trying to make sense of all of this. 

Makoto didn’t answer him. The ‘yes’ was heavily implied, and Hajime clenched his jaw as he resumed, “But she didn’t stop with just Izuru. She...targeted our upperclassmen too.”

“Upperclass-“ Hajime’s gasp was loud and sharp when the meaning sunk in. “No, Makoto. Don’t tell me that she...she  _ couldn’t  _ have. They were Ultimates! They would’ve had  _ no  _ reason to follow her!”

“We don’t know how she did it, but…” Hajime wanted him to stop. To say that this was all a sick joke. Makoto didn’t. “The Remnants of Despair were a sub-group of Ultimate Despair, made up of Izuru and fifteen students of Class 77.”

A seagull cawed overhead. 

Hajime couldn’t speak. Makoto’s words were even weaker as he went on, “Everyone’s files are in those cabinets. There’s a reason they were all included in the program, not just you.”

“Everyone…?” Hajime pictured all of their smiling faces and cheerful laughter. “Even Nagito and Chaiki? They all...killed?”

Again, Makoto didn’t say anything, but there was pain too in his eyes. He was biting his lip, and like before, he opened his mouth to say something before closing it, rethinking, and saying, “That hadn’t been enough for Junko either, apparently. She...then was behind the murder of the student council. Thirteen seniors.”

Hajime remained silent; nausea was creeping up his spine.

“Hope’s Peak tried to keep that secret too, but she leaked the video she took that showed the murders and...Izuru watching the whole time.” Hajime’s heart was ramming his rib cage. Makoto didn’t notice, for his empathetic eyes were focused on his face. “The rest of the students, especially the Reserve Course, were thrown into a frenzy, rioting against Hope’s Peak’s secrecy, its clear discrimination, and eventually, people outside of the school joined in too. They protested Ultimate idealism, fought against the unfairness and society, and...things escalated until people were just fighting in general. Junko...and the Remnants of Despair kept the flame burning.”

There was a moment of silence where Hajime didn’t want to think, didn’t want to process what Makoto had told him. However, he didn’t get that luxury when Makoto dug into his pants pocket and pulled out his phone. After a few taps to the screen, Makoto offered the phone and muttered, “The world is different from what you remember, Hajime.”

Hajime’s hand reached out before his mind told him not to. He shouldn’t watch. He needed to go back to sleep and wake up from his twisted nightmare his mind has conjured up.

Morbid curiosity had him taking the phone, however, and the video was already playing. 

It was an aerial view, taken from a helicopter, and a person was commenting. Hajime didn't pay them any attention, first noticing the abandoned buildings and deserted streets of a city. The structures were trashed and broken, glass and metal scattered around their foundations. Trash was littered all over the streets, along with scorch marks and graffiti and-

The second thing Hajime noticed were the bodies.

There were people laying face down on the asphalt, unmoving. Some were covered with blood, some were charred, some were missing an arm or a leg, and some where…

“The results of the fights, of the needless war,” Makoto said beside him, but he sounded far away, his voice hard for Hajime to focus on. “It has been going on for four years. The Future Foundation was put together to stop it, to bring back peace.”

Hajime said nothing, did nothing, but watch. More dilapidated streets were shown until an explosion went off in the distance, momentary lighting up the darkened sky. The video zoomed in on the massive smoke cloud a few blocks away. 

And then the figure standing on top of a towering building in between the blast and the helicopter. 

Hajime’s hand started to tremble at the sight of dark hair, flowing in the cinder-laced wind. The figure was watching the smoke dissipate for the longest, and then it... _ he _ looked over his shoulder and stared up straight at the camera. The zoom wasn’t close enough to see every detail, but it still captured those piercing red eyes and a face devoid of any emotion. He just stared and stared, and Hajime felt like he was peering into his own soul, even though…

There was another explosion. Sickening screams came from the helicopter before the video went black. 

Hajime kept looking at Makoto’s dark screen, seeing those red eyes reflect back at him. Then, the world all around him became blurry, and before he knew it, tears were streaming down his face for the second time that day. However, unlike before, he couldn’t scream or sob. His throat was tight and his tongue refused to work. 

Death had been going on for years. And he helped cause it. If he hadn’t accepted to be  _ experimented on _ , then this wouldn’t have happened. There wouldn’t have been a...a borderline god helping to tear society apart. How many...people…?

“It’s not your fault, if that’s what you’re thinking.” He felt Makoto’s eyes on him. He didn’t deserve that kind gaze, his kind voice. “It was Junko’s. You and your friends were influenced by her, and that’s why we gathered you all here. To restart everything, give you another chance-“

“Where are my parents?” Hajime managed to ask, voice scratchy and on the verge of collapse. He looked at Makoto through his tears, more falling down his cheeks when Makoto didn’t answer immediately. His eyes began to sting as he raised his voice. “Tell me, Makoto,  _ please!  _ Where are my parents, my family?!”

There was a glossiness to Makoto’s gaze. He averted his eyes, whispering, “Gone. Everyone’s families are. I’m really sorry, Hajime.”

“I-I…” Hajime couldn’t say anything else as raw emotion crashed into him. They came in waves. First shock, then hurt, anger, horror...sorrow. Sorrow that seeped into his bones and weighed them down, a deep sorrow so powerful and all-encompassing that his head spun, the nausea doubling him over. He vomited the little amount of food in his stomach, crying and screaming all the while. 

Makoto rested a hand on Hajime’s back as he drowned in emotion, and he barely heard the repeated, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over his own pain. 

_ It isn’t fair. It isn’t fair.  _

He was never going to see his parents again. 

He was alone surrounded by strangers and friends who were going to wake up and… _ it wasn’t fair. _

Hajime sat like that for a while, holding his head in his hands as his eyes ran dry. Makoto had quieted a while ago; his hand had moved to Hajime’s shoulder, providing comfort that he didn’t want. What he wanted was to go home, where two welcoming smiles would be waiting for him.

“Hajime?”

He didn’t respond to Makoto’s cautious yet soft voice. He dug tense fingers into his hair. 

“Do you...want to go back to the hospital so you can rest?”

Hajime flinched as he imagined all nurses and doctors, their eyes filled with fear. Now he knew. Biting his lip, Hajime shook his head. He couldn’t go back there. Not now.

“Okay,” Makoto said with no opposition. He gave Hajime’s shoulder a small squeeze. Hajime thought about shaking it off, but he was tired. Too tired. “But, we shouldn’t stay here. It might...start getting smelly. Since you don’t want to go back, how about we tour the other islands? Is that alright?”

Hajime released a trembling breath, shoulders shaking. He didn’t care. Take him anywhere that didn’t have those eyes watching his every move. 

His nod was subtle, but Makoto must have caught it. “I’m gonna call Kyoko so she can pick us up. Walking around the islands would be exhausting even for me.” He didn’t wait for a response from Hajime, going ahead and talking to someone that wasn’t there. “Hey Kyoko, are you busy? Do you mind going on a tour with us on the island? He...doesn’t want to go back to the hospital. Okay, we didn’t go that far, just follow the trail. And, could you bring some water too? Thanks.” A small pause, then- “She’ll be here in a minute, Hajime.”

Hajime didn’t trust his voice, so he nodded again, eyes burning once more. Tears dampened his palms, flowing down his arms. 

Makoto’s hand remained on his shoulder. 


End file.
